


Staggered

by missmishka



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Domination, Fight Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Prompt Fic, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unbeta'ed, What Have I Done, spoilerish for movie, written in a mad rush of dark smut fuelled inspiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for livejournal MoS kink prompt: "the fighting turns sexual."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staggered

**Author's Note:**

> [TouchoftheWind](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TouchoftheWind/pseuds/TouchoftheWind) left a lovely comment on one of my Jor-El/Zod fics telling me about a [LJ MoS kink meme](http://manofsteelkink.livejournal.com/) with Zod prompts and I eagerly ran to dust off my LJ login to check the community out. And Zod prompts they do have. Do my muses immediately leap all over the few Jor-El/Zod prompts to keep me faithful to my OTP from the movie? Oh, no. Those faithless harlots that fuel my writing see things like "sex pollen" and "the fighting turns sexual" and this pops out. I...I have no excuse for myself.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories, thoughts or circumstances embellished on a little more than the original format had done. Not for any profit.

General Zod staggers from the grain silo that he had been thrown through by Kal-El.  
  
The visor of his helmet has been cracked by the impact; its integrity cannot be maintained. His helmet dematerializes; leaving him exposed to the atmosphere of Earth.  
  
He looks desperately around him for assistance from his lieutenants, but Tor-An and Faora-Ul are too far away to notice his dilemma, dealing with the infuriated Kal-El as he moves his Earthling mother to safety. Zod cannot hold his breath long enough to reach the dropships for new armor. With no other option; he stops, braces himself and breathes deeply to begin his body's adaptation to this foreign world.  
  
A scent of something in the air filters through his nostrils and seems to blast directly into his bloodstream. The effect is dizzying and drops him to his knees.  
  
His vision blurs, mouth goes dry and flesh tingles. He bows forward, gloved fist shoved into the ground as he grapples with the assault upon his senses. He hears... everything.  
  
The sound of Kal-El's booted feet slamming to the ground in front of him nearly deafens Zod and a growl rumbles in his throat at the man's having been able to catch him unaware.  
  
"What have you done to me?" he demands, forcing his head up to stare at Kal-El.  
  
His vision sees not only the surface of the man standing over him, but his eyes see right through the traitor; every layer of flesh, tissue and bone within him.  
  
"Found your Achilles heel," Kal-El replies, far too superior for Dru-Zod's liking. "My parents taught me to hone my senses, Zod. Focus on just the things I _wanted_ to see, and tune out everything else. But without your helmet, you can't focus. You're getting _everything_. And it's too much, isn't it?"  
  
Dru bows his head again, as if in defeat, to hide his smirk as _Clark's_ gloating gives him the instruction that he needs to stop the chaos within him. If _focus_ is the key, then Zod can easily do that. He draws in a deep, controlled breath and focuses on Kal-El's heartbeat; tuning out everything else because he wants to tear out that traitorous organ.  
  
Kal reaches down to grip Zod's shoulder and yank him to his feet.  
  
"You think you can threaten my _mother_?" he snarls the question before hurling Dru through the air again, this time to crash through the fields of grain growing on the farm.  
  
That _scent_ assails his nostrils again as he braces for Kal-El's next attack. He licks his dry lips and resists an urge to squirm under the heated weight of his armor. The tingling of his flesh is worsening, becoming a heat that his skinsuit seems to intensify. He needs to shed his armor, but that would be foolish in the midst of combat.  
  
He shakes it off as best he can and hones in on the fast pounding and approaching sound of Kal-El's heart. He kicks upward with both his feet just as the young man would have slammed down atop his sprawled form and he sends Kal flipping backward to crash down several yards away.  
  
Pushing to his feet, Zod cracks his neck to ease the tension growing there before he leaps into the air to push his advantage. Kal looks up in surprise as Zod slams down on him, but he only huffs out a breath at the impact before shoving up to flip their bodies.  
  
They bounce and roll over the ground; tussling like children for the dominant position.  
  
"Where is the Codex?" Dru demands, jamming his elbow savagely into Kal's throat when he manages to pin the young man beneath him.  
  
Kal glares up at him, blue eyes firing hate a rebellion as he struggles to draw breath without showing how difficult Zod is making the process. His lips move, perhaps with an answer to the question, and Zod leans in closer to listen for words.  
  
"What was that?" he asks.  
  
Kal's feathery light breath is the only answer that he receives and the feel of it across his cheek and earlobe sends a jolt of sensation to Zod's cock. It stirs with interest and hardens in his skinsuit, pushing at the confines and, in doing so, grinding against Kal's groin.  
  
Zod rears back in horror at his own base reaction, but he does not ease his advantage on Kal as he tries to will away the erection.  
  
The heat in Kal's gaze takes a surprising shift as he bucks upward in a bid for freedom and shoves against Zod's hard length. He drops his body back to the ground and begins to tear at Zod's forearm, thrashing until he is able to drag a breath into his his lungs. He writhes and twists until he is able to knock Zod off-balance.  
  
It is not Kal's movements, though, that earn him the upper hand in that moment. It is Zod's shock at feeling Kal's hardened cock grinding against him in the attempt to escape that unsettles Dru enough to be knocked aside.  
  
"Monster," Kal gasps in the seconds in takes him to recover enough to begin moving away from Zod.  
  
It is the wrong thing for this man to have said. Zod's ears ring with the memory of Jor-El's last words to him in the Council's citadel on Krypton. His friend and once lover has also condemned him as a monster. If this son of El also saw him as such, perhaps it is time for Zod to live up to their slur.  
  
He lunges forward, tackling Kal to the ground and holding him there with his arm again compressing the young man's windpipe.  
  
"Your father called me that. **Once** ," Dru's cock find the crease between the swells of Kal's ass and he pushes in to grind there. " _You_ have yet to see the kind of monster I have become."  
  
He bites into the tender lobe of Kal's ear and laughs at the unbidden tremble that goes through the man's large frame before he slams his head back and pushes off from the ground to launch them both into the air.  
  
They slam to the ground and somersault through more fields, knocking down trees as they go. The smell of the Earth that they tear up continues to have a debasing effect on Zod as he huffs it in like a raging war-kite. With every shift, rise and fall they slam, twist and grind together.  
  
Zod no longer wants his skinsuit gone; he _needs_ it off.  
  
The crotch is getting uncomfortably slick with his own precum and the glide of fabric over his cock is as abrasive as it is arousing. Kal bites his lower lip enough to make it bleed as he obviously grapples with the same issue and Zod wants suddenly to place his hand between them to see if he can feel a saturation of the material over the young man's straining cock.  
  
"You father," Zod pants out, pressing another advantage as he again finds himself momentarily on top in their rolling, "loved to squirm beneath me. In our youth, he would fuck himself unconscious on my cock, writhing and moaning like you are as I shafted him."  
  
The deep, vulnerable and long ignored parts of Dru that had loved Jor-El cry out at his vile twisting of what they had shared in their youth, but it has the desired effect on the son. He howls with rage and shoves Zod away, while holding onto his skinsuit at the same time and tearing the material from collar to waist before Zod stops his own backward skid.  
  
A warm breeze moves between them, wafting like a lover's breath over Zod's exposed chest. Kal stares for a moment at the flesh revealed and Zod takes advantage of the distraction to lunge forward and grab at the voluminous red cape billowing in the wind.  
  
He moves quickly to wind the length of fabric around Kal's body, using it to pin the man's arms uselessly at his sides. He shoves the seemingly dizzied man to his knees then thrust him forward until his forehead digs into the Earth he has chosen over his native Krypton. The binding will not hold long enough for all that Zod would like to do, so he goes for the quick and dirty fight to achieve his new goal to see Kal-El quiver and come beneath him.  
  
Zod strips away his gloves then allows his hands to slip from Kal's hips to the front of his body. The skinsuit in soaking through at the tip of the penis outlined by the clinging material. An impressive length, but lacking the girth that Zod had enjoyed with Jor-El's cock.  
  
He presses his chest against Kal's back to keep his wriggling form in place as best as he can and reaches for the dagger concealed in his boot. It is not the weapon that had slain Jor-El; the Council had taken that as evidence of the crime that they swept under the rug in the aftermath of his failed coup. It is, though, a long and deadly length of polished steel that cuts easily through Kal's skinsuit.  
  
Kal goes deathly still at the prick of the blade against the skin of his ass; even his heartbeat stutters as he draws a worried breath. Zod is careful not to break skin as he creates a tear in the fabric from the small of Kal's back down the crack of his ass to just before the soft lump of his balls at the crotch of the uniform.  
  
He tucks the dagger back away then settles back on his heels to watch as he moves his fingers into the breach to tear it wider. He hooks his fingers to hold the gap open then plunges his thumbs inside to wedge apart the taut rise of Kal's ass. The flesh trembles at his touch; muscles clenching to fight and reject whatever Zod intends, but eventually it spreads to show the tight pucker of Kal's hole.  
  
Kal shudders beneath him at this exposure and Zod's heightened hearing picks up a shuddering utterance of, "Please."  
  
It is not the same plea that would have been uttered had this been Jor-El at his mercy; it is not a want for more brute force, it is a plea for the humiliation to go no further.  
  
Zod is too far in to withdraw now, though. His body needs release.  
  
He shifts his left hand to pull out his own cock; tearing his own skinsuit a little more to get the exposure he craves. He slicks his palm with the precum coating the tip of his penis and spreads it over the length of the shaft before moving his fingers to wipe the residue along the crack of Kal's ass. He then shifts his hand to delve into the gap between Kal's legs to gather some of the moisture gathered there. Kal's length has gone soft and Zod frowns at that, but supposes it it to be expected.  
  
He pulls his hand back to spread more slick along the crease before he moves forward to place his cock against Kal's exposed skin.  
  
"You think that I would fuck _you_?" he asks, biting at Kal's ear then the taut line of his neck as he strains away from Zod's mouth. " **That** is a privilege that you have not earned."  
  
With that, he begins begins to rock and grind his hips forward, sliding his shaft between the slick cheeks of Kal's ass while making no effort to penetrate him. A shudder wracks the form beneath him as Kal realizes his rape will not be a complete invasion of his body and the tremor moves through Dru-Zod like a pleasant quake.  
  
He presses harder, grinds faster in search of his own release. The scents overwhelm him; this air and Earth; the grains and soil; the sweat and lust.  
  
Kal grunts as the thrusts shove him harder to the ground; face twisting at an uncomfortable angle as he cannot brace himself against the onslaught. Zod bends over him, curling a hand in his lush hair to yank his head up from dirt. The arch of his spine thrusts Kal's ass backward and they both groan as the angle shifts to press Zod's next lunge against the tight rim of Kal's hole.  
  
Kal goes still again, but Zod only shifts his free hand between them to guide his cock back to fucking the crevice between Kal's muscular cheeks.  
  
Despite his words, Zod wants to fuck into the young man. He would like nothing more than to force his way inside this ass that has likely never known a breach of any kind. He can imagine the incredible heat and grip of such a channel. He can imagine with relish how Kal-El would struggle and flail against the abuse until Zod finds the knot within that would show Kal pleasure as he has never known it.  
  
But he can desecrate Jor-El's memory with only so many infractions against this offspring. He closes his eyes tightly against memories of the father, but cannot stop his body from shuddering to release at the memory of Jor-El, younger than Kal is now, in a similar position; begging always for more and thrashing with his own climax.  
  
The son is too like the father for Zod's sanity. For the sake of Krypton, the last of the El line must be severed.  
  
He drops Kal's head back to the ground and fumbles for the dagger to end this before it can shake him anymore than it already does, but Kal takes advantage of the momentary weakness left by his orgasm and he tears free of his cape.  
  
He rears up, knocking Zod to his back and leaps to his feet to stand over the sprawled form. His face is red with violent emotions; his large hands curling and flexing in fists that could hammer Zod to the ground and his broad chest heaves with rapidly unsteady breaths. He stares at Zod with a fury that promises more to come before he throws his head back to release a savage yell. He drops to a knee at Zod's feet, plants a fist in the ground perilously close to Zod's face then shoves off from the Earth to bolt away in flight.  
  
Zod lies there for a moment, staring at the fading traces of Kal's rapid launch across the sky. His ears slowly detect the approach of others and he tucks his spent shaft away in the tatters of his suit just as Faora and Nam-Ek come over a slight rise to locate him in the fields.  
  
"Go after him," he orders them, waving off their concern and stalking past them to get back to the dropship and a change in attire.

**Author's Note:**

> My original thinking was thought the Earth's atmosphere was like a sex pollen to Zod, but I think the piece ended up being more the fighting turns sexual and pollen made them do it.


End file.
